


Picture

by Classpectanon



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (kind of?), Ambiguity, Experimental Style, Gen, Psychological Disquieting, Psychological Horror, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21895063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Classpectanon/pseuds/Classpectanon
Summary: Vignettes of a lifetime.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Picture

The radio pumps out murring statick at a reasonable volume.

The boy from the suburb in the front seat, called shotgun at the beginning of a trip, seven hours ago -- hair flutters over ex-bespectacled eyelids now shut in the dim blow of the air conditioner. Too asleep to process the world around him, but not asleep enough to feel the taste of dreams, he exists in a half-stupor, eyes blinking open and shut in slow motion, unsure of whether anything in the world is real or not.

The girl from the island stares wistfully out the window, her forehead pressed firmly to the cool glass. The wind circulating the car is stale and sweaty, and her legs are stuck faintly to the seat below. Her breath fogs up the window, but it's not as if there's anything to see out there.

Occasionally, they pass a streetlight, maybe once a minute or two. The headlights illuminate reaching trees encircling them like a tunnel. Such different flora from what she's used to. She could swear she sees eyes in the dead winter forest, her logical processing keeping her ascertained of the possibility that it must be the overacting imagination of an eager preteen.

In the middle seat, sandwiched between two girls his age, the boy from the city finds the discomfort of his freshly-befuzzed legs growing in itch as the minutes tick by. His phone is on 15%. His headphones interrupt the AM tuning with his own blend of distraction. He shifts around. He wants to put his head on someone's shoulder, but he's afraid of pushing his earbuds further into his ear. Maybe if he pushes them far enough, they'll poke through his brain and he won't need to think about it as much. So he stays ramrod still.

On the right, the girl from the manor reads a small book, straining her eyes to the glow of her phone's screen, sucking air between her teeth quietly whenever they pass a streetlight. They hit a bump in the rugged, rural road and her grip tightens like her life depends on it. At least John's dad wouldn't tell her not to strain her eyes too much trying to read in the dark.

The car takes a turn just a little bit sharper than intended and she bumps her head into the window, gentle as silk. Too afraid to disturb the silence, she bears it without an issue, rubbing her forehead with her long-discarded jacket. She asks if she can open a window.

She feels nauseous and the world is turning around.

**Author's Note:**

> All comments, kudos, bookmarks, and views are seen, noted, and greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading.
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/classpectanon)  
> [Tumblr](https://classpectanon.tumblr.com)


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